The Walk to the Church
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Carson/Hughes moment on Anna/Bates' wedding day. Set after series 1, one-shot.


**For Muddycreekcat who requested Carson/Hughes. Set quite a while after series one.**

"Gwen! Gwen!"

A flash of pale blue shot down the corridor to where Gwen stood in the doorway beside Anna.

"Daisy, be careful; you don't want to spoil Gwen's nice frock!" Elsie heard herself scold, but little attention was paid.

Daisy, not having seen Gwen since she left, hugged her old friend with enthusiasm, despite the danger of creasing her best dress. Elsie advanced cautiously upon the frivolous assembly by the door.

"Hello you daft thing," she heard Gwen reply tot he girl, "Though it's Anna you should be paying attention to not me."

Daisy looked apologetically at Anna, or, more accurately at her dress. Having recently taken to being oddly matrimonial, heaven help us, Daisy had taken astonishing interest in the wedding dress since the days when it was just a sheet of cloth. Anna, typically casual, shrugged.

"She still sees me every day," she pointed out, "I'm nothing too exciting."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Mrs Patmore, straightening her hat, "You're getting married today; even the most boring soul's interesting on their wedding day. And this one," she pointed at Daisy, "Is excitable enough anyway. Can we get going now?" she added, with an impatient look at Elsie, "The church'll be getting restless, the time we're taking!"

Elsie shook her head, an expression of calm belying her true temperament.

"Not until Miss O'Brien and Mr Carson are here," she replied firmly.

"I don't see why we should have to wait for them," Mrs Patmore responded in exasperation.

"Don't worry, Mrs P," Daisy broke from catching up with Gwen to address her, "I told William to save you a good seat."

This news seemed to quieten the cook.

"What're you all still doing here?"

Miss O'Brien emerged at the foot of the stairs.

"Waiting for you, o'course," Mrs Patmore, revived, responded, "We aren't just loitering for the god of our health."

"You needn't have," was the response, "It's not as if I'm the one getting married."

"Now, that would be a fine thing," the cook remarked, "Where on earth is Mr Carson?" she turned again to Elsie, as if she expected the housekeeper to be concealing his whereabouts.

"I haven't the slightest idea," she responded, hoping that her own irritation with their lateness did not show.

"We'll have to 'urry up," Miss O'Brien commented, presently performing the same hat-straightening routine as the cook had moments before, "Old Bates'll be thinking she's got cold feet."

"Hardly," Gwen's dismissal summed up what they were all thinking. Mr Bates was no fool and Elsie would like to think, as he was marrying her, he knew Anna well enough to realise she was hardly a bolter.

"You go on without us," she told them after a moment's pause, "You don't need us there straight away, we'll sneak in the back."

"Are you sure?" Anna asked.

"I'm positive," Elise replied, and then, with a half-withering glance in Miss O'Brien's direction "We can't have your husband thinking you've jilted him."

Anna cast another unsure look in towards the housekeeper, but seemed to realise that she was talking sense. The group trooped out slowly and got into the car parked by the back door. If Elsie and Charles walked they would take a little longer but they should get there on time to see the vows exchanged as long as the vicar drew out the ceremony. Left alone, she paced rather impatiently back and forth. He wasn't usually late; why was he on today of all days? Catching sight of herself in the small looking glass on the wall, she considered straightening her hat, but thought better of it, remembering the individual sagas Miss O'Brien and Mrs Patmore had found themselves ensconced in. Finally, the sound of hurried feet on the stone floor met her ears and seconds later, Charles appeared in the doorway, dressed in his best suit.

"Where in heaven's name have you been?" she enquired, realising she was almost hissing.

"I'm sorry," he apologised grimly, "I lost track of time."

She wished she wasn't so annoyed by it, but she couldn't help herself. Days that ran on tight schedules stirred something deep within her housekeeping nature.

"I suppose we had best get going," she told him briskly, putting on her gloves, "We don't want to be any later."

"Elsie?" his voice was rather more than its usual gravelly.

It was the voice he used when he wanted to talk to her about something serious, something she rather feared they didn't quite have time for at the moment. She cast an irritated eye in his direction, ready to tell him as much, but his expression stopped her. His look wasn't imploring, but more like hesitant. Oddly hesitant and expectant at the same time. She felt the harshness of her need for punctuality soften a little.

"Can you walk and talk?" she asked.

He nodded and put on his hat as they set off. She waited for him to begin, she had no idea which serious matter in particular he wanted to discuss and so had no starting point.

"How is Anna?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied, surprised at his choice of question, "A little nervous, but that's to be expected. She needn't be, though."

"Mr Bates is a fine man," he agreed, "He'll make her a good husband." 

Their paces, despite their lateness, were unhurried. They were quiet for a moment. Elsie dwelt upon the life the two young people had in front of them. It was a happy one, surely, even in these troubled times.

"Elsie?" he began again.

She did not respond verbally, but looked at him to show she was listening. He did not follow this straight away; from the look of him he was struggling with what to say next.

"What is it, Charles?" she asked.

She did not mind him being blunt- it was much preferable to beating about the bush- and wondered what it could be that had caused this halting block of reticence in him.

"Elsie, do you ever wish you'd had... well, what Anna and Mr Bates seem to have?"

She raised one eyebrow at him.

"I thought I asked questions like that," she reminded him with a small smile.

His expression remained serious.

"Do you?"

"Are you offering, Charles?"

"Do you?"

Goodness, she thought, he didn't deny it! She tried to read something, anything, in his expression but it remained blankly serious. She looked almost distractedly at the road. The church had come into view in the distance but they did not quicken their pace.

"I don't know," she admitted, "Maybe... perhaps... I... Maybe once."

"So you don't now, then?" he asked.

She thought she heard a remarkable change in his voice at some point during the question. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head.

"No," she decided, observing his expression, "I don't wish I'd had something like they have now."

"I see," he spoke to his shoes, "Well, at least we've got that clear."

"I don't wish I'd had it, because then I probably would have what I have with you now."

She hope it didn't come across as being too forward, but then the conversation had taken rather a turn that way.

They were quiet for a moment, pacing on towards the church.

"Isn't it the same thing?" he asked almost in a whisper.

She looked at the path ahead of her.

"No love is the same as any other, much as people themselves differ."

There, she'd said it.

"Charles," she finally turned to him at the church gate, "I think we should talk about this... us after the service."

With that she reached down and squeezed his hand, smiling at his waistcoat as she did so. Then she pushed at the wood and proceeded up the church path, leaving him there on his own for the moment. Halfway to the door she turned back to him.

"I'll try to catch the bouquet."

She tired not to beam to obviously.

**Please review.**


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